Home
by Rose Critical
Summary: Many people blur the line between family and home. More often than not, it's grouped together in a category that cannot be broken. Unless, of course, you're born without either, and have to find what they truly are.


She let out a cry as she shoulder-bashed though the door; she figured that she'd never even see it again.

Ryan was never one for wishful thinking.

The lucario, however, was mindful of the pack on her back, and the precious cargo that it held. She tried to keep her movements smooth enough to protect it, but fast enough to run away from those… those….

 _Murderers._

"Just give up, Jackie!" the man said, brandishing a baseball bat with nails shoved through the fat end. "You can't run forever… you can't keep your mouth shut forever… and you can't _live_ forever…"

Ryan's breathing, which was unusually slow and controlled, quickened. She pushed off the end of the hallway, turning the corner. Her feet slid as she made her way downstairs and into the alley separating the two apartment complexes, stopping at the wall of men blocking her path into the street.

"Shit…" she whispered. Ryan tightened the straps on her pack, not going down without a fight.

"Jackie."

"Come on," each man began to say.

"You can do this the easy, quick, and _quite painless way…_ " one said, pulling out a pistol.

"Or we can rip you limb from limb."

Not one word tarnished her determination.

Because of her stance she held firm, Ryan seemed short relative to the men. But as she stood, perspective quickly made her a sentinel compared to them. She saw the glint in their eyes change, hinting at fear lingering in their minds.

"Damn, honey. We didn't forgot how big you were," one said, lying through his teeth. "Just give us what Boss wants."

"On… my… cold… mangled… _corpse!_ " she shouted. Ryan dashed forward, grabbing the middle's head of the five men, snapping his neck.

The one on her right slid a knife out from his belt strap, jamming it in her right peck. Ryan made a fist and drove it into the man's trauma plate, shattering it and sending shrapnel in his bowels.

One man pulled out a gun, shooting a round shy of her right shinbone. She winced, but showed no slowing down. Despite the damaged muscle, her ankle found itself in the man's jaw, driving his skull in the alley wall and painting it red.

She grabbed the last two men's heads and rammed them together, disregarding the fact that they both held shotguns, which fell to the ground soon after.

Ryan sighed, taking a knee. She pulled the knife from her chest and jammed it into the man that she shoved into the wall, who was beginning to stir.

"Damn…" she began.

Alas, a crack of a revolver interrupted her from saying any more.

And then another.

Ryan gasped and coughed up a bit of blood, turning around.

The man with a bat struggled to cock the revolver a third time, peeking from the apartment stairwell. Ryan ran towards him, grabbing the gun and slamming it in his eye socket, earning a cry of pain from him. She twisted it and shoved it further, forever silencing him. He fell to the ground, convulsing slightly.

Ryan, now not worried with any of the men, gasped in fear. She unstrapped the pack and hid behind a dumpster, coughing.

She unzipped it and saw a bit of fur and blood.

"No… no…" Ryan slowly took out a kit, crying from its broken leg, which was hanging by a thread. "NO!"

Ryan coughed up more blood, realizing that she hadn't much time. She formed a spinning vortex of aura in her left palm, screaming in agony. Once it was big enough, she slowly let it absorb into the little cub's body, healing the leg.

The cub stopped its crying, reducing to a whimper. It shuddered, now concerned with warmth.

Only now did Ryan realize how cold it was, coughing once more. She began to consider the gravity of things.

Ryan glanced into the street: it was full of unknown people and their values.

She looked back at the apartment: they would hear the crying.

She looked in the alley: it was safe, since nobody used the alley corridor.

A bolt of pain ran up her chest, hasting her to make a decision.

Ryan gathered up all of the aura in her body, trying to hold in her screams as best as she could. It pooled in her hands, bubbling like a drop of lava.

She remembered the home where she grew up: it was probably destroyed in the path of the war.

The aura began to spark. It was almost ready. She had to choose.

Ryan found an old chunk of coal near the dumpster, grabbing it and scribbling it on the pack. She slid the kit inside, planting a final kiss on its forehead, zipping it shut.

"I love you," she muttered. Ryan chanted a quick phrase, causing the ball of aura to expand into a disk.

As she expected, it wasn't big enough for her. Ryan grabbed the pack and held it over the portal, hesitating.

"Goodbye," she said.

The portal flashed from blue to white, causing an image of grass to form. She let the pack drop, landing on the grass with a gentle hiss-rattle. With that, the portal dissipated, leaving nothing but floating sparks of blue. Even then, those disappeared shortly after.

Ryan coughed up more blood in her hand, wiping it on the ground. She tried to form a last sphere of aura, but the wounds had taken their toll.

Ryan lay down slowly, struggling to stay awake. She hoped that what she did was right… because she only had one shot.

She wasn't done, yet. She had one more thing to do…

Ryan took off a small bracelet she wore on her ankle and held it to her face.

"Ivan…" she said. The bracelet's center crystal pulsed a dull shade of blue, and a faint sparkle floated around it.

"Ryan?" it said.

"You must enact genetic protocol…" She coughed and heaved, then cleared her throat. "Genetic protocol… S-Stetringrad 7274…"

"Genetic protocol is not advised for use unless the next descendant is two steps or lower from—"

"Overrule!"

"Yes, Riana. Protocol dictates Stetringrad 7274." It warbled a little bit, then glowed a bit brighter for a split second. "Protocol finds unknown descendant."

"Age?"

"Protocol dictates: less than one month." Ryan shuddered.

"Good," she whispered.

"Protocol inquires the duration of your control. Would you like to abdicate?" Ryan thought for a moment.

"No. I haven't much time, besides."

She began to cry herself to sleep. Indeed, a deep sleep she fell into.

A sleep she'd never wake up from.

XXXXX

"Damn communists…" Dan huffed, tossing the newspaper aside. He eyed his pancakes for a second before forking a piece. "Always taking risks… throwing money down the drain. I'm telling you, that'll land them into trouble!" he remarked, shoving the bit in his mouth.

"Don't be so rash, Dan." Mary set her plate on the counter, washing her hands. "The greatest enemy we have is the unknown. Why do you think we spy on eachother so much?"

"Bah, you make me want to check the television for cameras again. I swear this house is bugged…" Dan cracked his knuckles, reaching for a glass of orange juice.

"Hey, Dan, honey?" Mary began. "Come look at the garden."

"Godforsaken rabbits…"

"No, not this time." Dan stood up, looking out the window. He saw a small boulder lying in his lawn.

"What in blazes?" Dan said, walking to the door. He cracked it open and went down the porch and onto the lawn. As he got closer… he realized it wasn't a boulder…

It was a backpack with fresh blood on it.

He furrowed his brow and picked it up, examining it.

The backpack had one zipper… and it was pretty sturdy. It had two holes through it, with a tag hanging off of it, which was written in something he couldn't read. Dan reached for the bag and picked it up, bringing it inside.

"Why'd you take it in?"

"Does no use sitting in the yard, makin' yellow spots…" Dan went and put a towel on the table, setting the bag on top of it. "We placing bets on what's in it or what?"

" _Dan!_ That could be someone's property!"

"Not from anywhere I know… no." He gestured to the tag. "Well… I'm opening it." Mary watched skeptically as he unzipped the pack.

As the flap fell, Dan's eyes widened.

"Holy shit."

"What is it?" Mary asked. Dan regarded its ears, being pointy and soft. It was like a dark blue German Shepard.

"It's a pokémon. I can't put my finger on it… but it's a pokémon." She was about to answer when Dan grabbed it by the scruff and lifted it out, making it fuss more.

"Don't hold it like _that_!"

"What? Dogs do it all the time!"

"Give it to me!" Dan grumbled and let her take it, making the lucario fuss a little more.

"I—we can't take care of a pokémon. Too much work to train it."

"We don't have to…"

"You do realize we're moving to Sunnyside homes in a month?"

"I know… but—"

"No pokémon allowed there. And we can't just let it run loose… damn thing will get caught by one of those self-centered assholes." Dan rubbed his balding head, thinking. "Isn't Will a breeder?" Dan looked at Mary.

"He's in accounting now."

"So he _did_ take to my advice for once…" Dan looked at his watch.

6:09.

"He ought 'a still be home. I'll call him real quick." He grabbed his phone and hammered in a few numbers, waiting.

Mary marveled at the softness of this dog-like creature. It wasn't exactly a riolu… more of a miniature lucario. Though there was a bit of black where it wasn't supposed to be.

She rubbed that spot, the black coming off and on her hand.

 _Soot?_ she wondered. Mary looked back at the bag, some markings catching her eye. It was sloppy, with a few letters written backwards, but she could just make out what it said.

" _Keep Anastasia safe_?" she read, looking back at the kit. "Anastasia…" Mary said, smiling. "Wonder where your parents are, Anastasia?" The kit didn't respond, instead yawning. Anastasia fussed a bit more, settling into a more comfortable position, shutting its eyes.

Dan shut the phone and turned to Mary.

"Will's home. He said he has some room for it there."

"You want me to take her?"

"I got it." He got the backpack and put it in a trash bag, tying it off. He also grabbed a small cardboard box and put the newspaper in it. Mary laid the lucario in the box, sighing. Dan grabbed a few more bites of pancake before washing it down with more orange juice.

"She's cute."

"I know. I'll be back in a bit."

He grabbed the box and went out the door, letting the screen shut behind him. He unlocked the car and put the box in the passenger side. Dan went around and sat in the driver's seat, turning on the car. It hummed a warm tune, dying down to a slow rumble as he shifted it into reverse. Dan drove out of the driveway and onto the street.

The ride took about 15 minutes: not far from Dan's place. He got out of the car and shut the door, walking to the other side to get the box and the bag.

Dan went up, stepped on the porch, and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, a woman answered.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

"I'm here to drop off a pokémon," Dan said.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. Will doesn't keep them anymore. I know there's—"

"Hold on!" someone yelled, stumbling down the hallway and to the door. "We do." A young looking man with a beard wrapped one arm around her, looking at Dan.

"We do?"

"Yes. I have a spare pokéball. You must be Dan."

"I am." He extended a hand, which Will shook.

"You said this was a blue dog?"

"Yeah."

"Well, come inside," Will said, standing to the side. "Let's take a look. Where did you find it?"

"In my yard."

"You know if it's had shots yet?"

"Nope." Dan rested the plastic bag on the table.

"Sterilized?"

"No."

"Alright. Let me do a quick test…" He pulled out a little disk with two prongs on it, touching the prongs to the kit's fur. The light turned red, indicating that…

"Nobody's caught it before," Will said, smiling.

"Good. Here you go…" Dan reached for his back pocket.

"No, that's fine," the woman said. "It's our responsibility."

"But I came out of—" Dan paused. "Never mind. Have a good day, Will." Dan waved to them as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him. The woman locked the door and walked out through the hallway, leaving the two alone.

Will sat down, holding the little lucario in his hands. It was amazingly small: about as tall as a basketball and weighed as much as a jug of milk.

"Do you have a name… buddy?"

It stared back at him as if he said nothing at all. Will chuckled, looking at the box. He checked it for writing, but only found a moving company's calling sign on the flaps. The plastic bag rustled slightly due to the fan in the room, grabbing his attention.

"What did he bring for you?" Will asked, resting the kit on his lap. He reached for the bag and ripped it open, finding a dark green backpack inside. He unzipped it, looking inside.

He reached in to grab whatever was in there, but only came out with some soot in his hand. His eyes trailed to the markings on the inside of the top flap…

" _Keep Anastasia safe_?" he said, looking back at the furball fussing on his lap.

He put her on the table, looking for any other tags or markings. He only found something written in a Slavic language on a cardstock tag hanging off of the side…

"Well, Anastasia. Let's get you a nice, new, shiny pokéball to sleep in," Will said, smiling. He walked off and came back with a gleaming red and white pokéball. He booped it on her nose and let the ball rest on the table.

The pokéball did nothing.

"Weird…" he said quietly. He grabbed the ball again, touching it on her fur.

Anastasia blinked back at it, licking the ball. She found the taste of plastic unsatisfying, making a face.

Will laughed, grabbing a can of almonds on the table and cracking it open. He poured some in his hand and held it out to her. Anastasia sniffed it and ate a few nuts, crunching them between her already developed teeth. She ate a bit more before laying back down, huffing.

"Curious little thing." Will tried again, touching her fur with the pokéball, but with little results. "How unusual. Duds are rare." He pocketed the ball and picked her up, taking her upstairs.

"In the meantime, you'll sleep here." He walked into a room. "It was my son's room, before he graduated.

"Mnlah," she said, nipping at her paw.

"It's soiled slightly, but it'll do." He swiped a finger on an old bookshelf, rubbing the dust between his fingertips. "I'll clean it up sooner or later, if time dictates so." Will put her down on the floor with a small pokémon toy for her. "You seem to be radically less intelligent than others that I've seen… no offense."

"Mnleh." She squeezed the plush cube he gave her between her paws, entranced by the small squeaks it made. She smiled and continued to play with it.

"I've got to work… so…" Anastasia looked at Will quizzically. "Sarah will be home if you need…" He paused. "Eh, I'll tell her to check on you once every quarter hour." He left the room, shutting the door.

Anastasia, albeit only a month old, already began to learn several things. Little did she know, she'd never remember any of it.

Not because of any malicious intent, but because her brain was still developing. A lot of things were still developing.

Little did she know, she'd grow up from a tiny furball to be just like her mother.

[Author's Note]  
Hi.  
Curious, what did you think?  
As per usual, feel free to DM or review what your thoughts and improvements are, or if you have a question.  
Until next time. Next chapter might be in ~2 weeks or so.  
[/Author's Note]


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